Lay on my Leather Couch
by Pick 'n' mix
Summary: [AU] [InuKag] Small town therapist Kagome has a leather couch that's always empty... until her quiet life is disrupted by someone in dire need of her skills. The emotional rollarcoaster starts here...
1. The Start of the Journey

Gods, I KNOW, I should be working on Make Me, but I've been having some ideas --- enough for two stories, in fact. Gah! I feel unfaithful to Make Me now!

Anyways, this idea was too good to resist, so voila, Pick 'n' Mix presents:

Lay on my Leather Couch

They say it matches my eyes perfectly.

I've had it for years now, so many I can't count. My most faithful piece ever, warm in winter, and yet cool enough to slip on when there's a slight chill: my brown leather coat.

I'd spotted it in a second hand shop, a lone treasure among junk, calling out to me. A warm, rusty chocolate, which people claim is the exact shade of my eyes.

They never really see me without it.

I shrug it on now, over a simple blouse and skirt, adjusting the lapels correctly, giving myself a brief, yet critical sweep in the full-length mirror. I'm ready. Just as I am, every other day.

I know, I know. I get paid two hundred dollars an hour. And I'm shopping in second hand shops?

The thing is, it's hard to earn any money at all with a practice like ours. We live in a small town, so small they hardly bother to put it on the map. It's my hometown, and I've known everyone from since birth, almost. Everyone is well adjusted, happy, normal. There's no need for a practice like ours.

I'm a therapist.

And my leather couch is always empty.

But strangely enough, the thought of leaving hasn't even crossed my mind. I could find plenty of business elsewhere, particularly in LA. I've heard that many people are under constant strain, under trying to 'make it.' I could make a mint in LA. I even live near it, which is hard to believe, but as I said, if some particularly meticulous person decided to place my hometown on the map, the little dot would be situated just a couple of millimeters away from the huge square block that would be used to mark LA.

But most people don't even see our town. They just head straight for Los Angeles; City of the Angels. Bright movie lights; where all the famous are. Hungry to do some star spotting and perhaps even trying to be one. No one bothers to even stop and try to notice our small little town.

We're completely shadowed by LA. We're invisible. We do not exist.

And that's how it's always been.

Until… _he _came.

>>>>>>>>>>>

He stormed into my life, literally. New people are so rare in our town; they're practically an extinct species. Mostly, they're a delinquent teenager sent to live with their relatives for a month or two, before slipping out of our lives, under our radar again.

I caught my breath when he walked in --- and not because he was the newcomer. But because he was beautiful.

Beautiful… is hardly a word used to describe a man, is it? Beautiful depicts young, willowy, graceful women --- but there was no other word. Handsome was too… lame, and 'hot' was too brash.

He really was young, willowy, and he moved with the gracefulness of a feline. I only realized how wrong my statement was, until later.

He was lithe, his body taut. His hair flowed down his back like silk. It was a dreamy, soft silver, the colour of clouds when the moon shines through them. His eyes were the exact opposite, golden, hissing and spitting with burnt anger and passion.

Passion. That was the best word to describe him. He was so passionate, following his instincts and wants, reckless about everything and anything --- apart from when it came to love.

He had a blockage to that. He didn't believe in it.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

I'm the first thing he locks his eyes on.

It's hardly surprising, since I'm standing in the middle of the room, holding a bunch of folders, not even having taken off my leather coat yet.

But it was like all the breath had been knocked out of my body, and I felt uncomfortably aware that those golden eyes had dropped down to my body, scrutinizing me, before dragging his gaze up leisurely to my face again.

I hold my breath.

What do I expect? An appreciative smile? A glance of approval? A look full of barely suppressed longing…?

But that was just my imagination speaking.

In reality…

His face hardens and I can feel him take a figurative step back. His body language is cold, wary, and even from this distance I can see him pressing his lips together.

"What's your name, wench?"

His voice is rough, demanding, and I jump a little. "K-kagome Higurashi."

The golden eyes narrow, and he really does take a step back this time. "Oi! Miroku! I don't want this bitch! Find me another!"

I hear myself sucking in a breath sharply. The rudeness…!

I see Sango walking by, and she gives me a sympathetic look from outside the room. Then --- Miroku, I assume, because he's the only other person who I don't know --- steadily approaches my room, and gives a long wolf whistle. His eyes trail up her body (Sango works out three time a week), before passing on, inside. "Inuyasha…"

Inuyasha.

I know that name.

I can't quite place where from, though. I'm sure it'll come to me later.

"There are some _fine_ women here!" And then his eyes stop on me, and he falters. "Oh…!"

"See what I mean? Now get me another bitch. That one you eyed up earlier, she'll do."

Miroku visibly gathers himself, and smiles gentlemanly at me. "Excuse us." He draws Inuyasha to a corner and whispers frantically. I only hear snatches of: "…I'll bet she's nothing like her…" and "…I saw her first!"

It's apparent when Inuyasha gives in, because he slumps, arms crossing, and plumping himself onto the leather couch with a heavy huff.

It's been years since someone sat there.

And I can't quite describe the rush I feel, but it's something akin to excitement and relief. I'm finally going to earn my two hundred dollars an hour. And I'm going to learn about this beautiful man.

Miroku excuses himself quickly, after introducing himself and leaving Inuyasha in my 'capable hands.' Sango seems quite flustered as he strides out, but I only catch a glimpse of her whirling around, her back to him, face slightly pink.

Ah well. I'll question her later.

I can feel his eyes drilling into me. It's unnerving, but I finish what I was doing before perching myself into the chair near the couch. I smile at him, ready to begin my introductory spiel ---

And he opens his mouth. "You're young. Are you properly qualified?" he asks bluntly.

…I strain to keep my cool. "Yes, I'm young. I graduated when I was 19, youngest ever. I have to certificate to prove it. Do you want to see?"

He flicks me a suspicious glance, before grumbling out a, "Nah."

Right. "I deal mostly in confrontational therapy. You talk yourself through your problems, and come to your own conclusion. About 80 it works fine, but if there's something you are seriously wrong about, like denying you have a problem if you take drugs, I may have to correct you on it. It's all your opinion, all your way other then that, but I'm here to guide."

Oh, I've longed to say these words for ages. I haven't said them since university, and I can remember how I loved my job, seeing patients gradually improve, and under my watchfulness, become better people. I'm not saying they're perfect after my help, but I certainly like to think I've managed to aid them, in some small way.

"Guide?" His tone is disbelieving. "I don't need a fucking guide!"

My eyes bore into his. "You came here. That's part of admitting you need help."

Inuyasha's eyebrows lower fiercely. "I didn't come here because I wanted to. Miroku made me."

Ah… this would be a problem.

He carried on. "He says I have anger management problems. Keh! If I have anger management problems, they he definitely has a keeping-his-hands-to-himself problem. The sleaze."

Oh dear. And Sango looked quite taken with him, too. I'd have to warn her about that.

He talks, growing less aware that I'm even there. "…I don't need this. Feh! That letch was wrong. I don't have problems." He shoots a disgusted glance around the room, his gaze landing on the leather couch. The ultimate representive of what this room is. His face twists. "I'm out of here."

Inuyasha rises, footsteps easy and graceful. This could be the last time I ever see him. I have no right to keep him here. I haven't even been paid yet. I'm under no obligation to keep him here, apart from Miroku, but he didn't seem overly concerned.

Except ---

My voice stops him in the doorway. It's lilting, and soft, as I stare at his back.

"…Do you want it to change?"

It seems to take forever for him to turn around. His golden eyes meet my own brown ones. "What?"

He looks like a lost little boy there, wanting reassurance from his mother. And all of a sudden, I see past that exterior of his, past that gruffness he uses to hide the little boy inside. That's really who he is. Merely a little boy, playing a game, trying to be an adult. Made to participate, or be left behind.

It nearly breaks my heart.

"Your life. The way people perceive you. Your troubles, your problems, your fears. Do you want to change that?"

Inuyasha's eyes are bleak as he stares at me. He stares at me for a few long minutes, before moving slowly, ever so slowly back to the leather couch.

We're both silent in our agreement to accept each other.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It's started! Woo hoo! Huzzah! Yay!

Sorry, I just had sugar. :)

I'm really in love with this story plot, because I can already tell it's going to be a truly moving one. You don't talk about people's emotional landscapes and expect it to be dull. There's going to be good times, and bad times, and everything that life is about. I know this is going to be great, because I've already put so much of myself in the characters. Kagome is going to be trusting, free, naive, and so _enthusiastic_ about life and love, while Inuyasha is going to be all cynical, and 'life's a bitch and then we die' kinda thing.

It's going to clash, and with some amazing results, I hope. ;)

Review, onegai!


	2. Keys of Black and White

Update! Finally… Watch my amazing ability at trying and possibly failing at to keep up with two stories (and I've got plenty of ideas for other ones too) and my real life, and my coursework, _and _my part time job. :3

**Lay on My Leather Couch**

**Chapter Two**

He was beautiful, but he was also ugly.

He bore deeper scars then I could ever understand, and his life was a series of heart wrenching or terrifying -- sometimes even both -- events, that followed one after the other. Lady Luck, although she had been kind on the surface, obviously had a rather twisted sense of humour. For every 'success' he earned, there seemed to be a catch. Or an rather unfortunate repercussion.

It was no wonder he had developed those mangled views and opinions. It was the only way he'd lived; he didn't know any other ways to think.

After all, a tightened string could only withstand a certain amount… before it snapped.

>>>>>>

"So tell me about your childhood."

Inuyasha sneers disdainfully, and I think if he has half the mind to toss his hair, he would. "Don't think I haven't heard that line, wench. I could've just turned the TV on, instead of coming the way all over here." With a expressive roll of his eyes, he shifts his gaze to stare moodily out the window.

I, however, am intrigued. "All the way over here? Where did you come from?"

Inuyasha flicks me a surprised glance. At least I think it's surprise. There is a tinge of scornfulness mixed in there too. "You don't know where I live?"

A beat. "…Should I?"

He laughs; a short, sharp bark of laughter that seems to hold no mirth whatsoever. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

"Inuyasha." The name tastes so familiar on my tongue, the syllables seeming to be some kind of distant chant that I had once chanted before, but have forgotten. The knowledge dances teasingly in front of me, darting just out of hand when I try to grasp it. "You're… Inuyasha."

It's as if he can sense my blatant puzzlement, because he shakes his head, a wry smile quirking those supple lips. Inuyasha really is… beautiful. "You still don't know who I am." The words brook no argument, no protestations.

Abrupt. That's… the only word that comes to mind when he grips my hands, holding them secure in his, the warmth enveloping me. His golden eyes burn into mine, holding me still, practically entranced. I can't breathe, my ability to respire has stopped, and my heart beats almost painfully in my chest. He leans forward, a hair's breadth away from me. I can feel his breath tickling my face gently, can smell the mint of it. I swallow.

"Then I promise you… once you've met me, you'll never forget me."

>>>>>>

I sip at my latte, before grimacing and reaching for a packet of sugar.

"So how's the therapy going?" Sango tips her head back, exposing a creamy throat, seeming to handle the espresso (no sugar, I might add) fine. She sets her cup down, gently swilling the dark, hot liquid around, as she gazes earnestly at me.

At twenty seven, and a good deal taller then me, Sango is not what you'd call cute. She has strong features; a straight, almost Roman nose, and a full, sensual mouth; wonderfully dark expressive eyes that she fixes upon me now -- and due to faithfulness to the gym and a balanced diet, she is slim. Independence and loyalty are perhaps her most prized traits, and she is often highly moralistic, yet understanding of other's wrongs.

So it comes to a little puzzle as to why she is still single. If you were to ask me why, and if I was in my 'therapist' mode, I'd say that she's scared to get hurt -- and scared to be involved with another.

"He's…" I pause. It's far too hard to describe him, even harder to fit in an single sentence. Instead, I ask her, "Do you recognize Inuyasha from anywhere? He seems to be famous…"

My voice holds a anxious note that even I wasn't aware about, until it sounded out loud.

"Me? God, no." She laughs, taking another sip of her espresso. "You know me, I don't watch much TV, or read those gossip rags."

She suddenly becomes serious. "I can ask around if you need to though. Would you like me to?"

"Oh -- no! I was just wondering. You know -- it's best not to let details out. And it'd be even worse if he did turn out to be famous -- just imagine, all the reporters turning up here."

Sango nods. "That's true. We wouldn't like to disturb this, would we?" She waves an arm around us, indicating to the peaceful scenery. A small, thatched cottage in which the baker lives in -- with his wife and child, I know -- the florist's, with her shelves of flowers; roses, tulips, lilies, among a thousand other kind of flowers, in a myriad of colours that dazzle the eyes -- the school nearby, educating many children. The pharmacist's -- Lauren Klidmorth. Quaint houses, ranging neatly side by side, holding many families, families I'm all on first name basis with. Lola Vern, mother of two. Michael Rivern, a single man who is devoting his life to his career at the moment. James Aford, a man nearing his eighties, who lives with Ronald, his nephew, who has a son who was born just three months ago.

So to speak, it is a homely, friendly place - one that I belong in.

>>>>>>>>

I dump my bag on the couch, turn around and lock my door before tossing my keys onto a little side dish I keep especially for them. It's with a practised ease that I move around in my house: jab the red button on my answer-machine, open the fridge for glass of juice, feed my cat, Buyo, and then flop down onto the couch to listen to my messages.

_Message One: Kagome, honey, it's Mama. Would you like to come around for dinner on Friday? You know what time we have dinner at, and I'm making oden! Take care, honey, bye._

Dinner at Mama's on Friday… at six on the dot. Hmm… Souta will be there, doubtless… and he's much more informed about all things media then me. I could probably ask him about Inuyasha.

_Message Two: Kagome, are you coming down to the bar tonight? We've got a missing slot - one of the singers blew it off, so I really need you… please? I'll buy you a drink. _

Ayame. She owns the only bar around here; sometimes she makes me come down - mostly to help out a little, but sometimes just to chat a little. It appears that tonight it's the former.

_Message Three: Kagome-sama? It's Miroku. I'd like to schedule appointments for Inuyasha, so please call me back. _

Hn. I pick up the phone and do as he asks.

"Hello?"

"It's Kagome. You wanted to schedule appointments?"

"Oh, yes." His voice suddenly lowers, and is it my imagination, or did it get… huskier? "I'm free all night."

Not my imagination at all. Damn it. "I'm talking about _Inuyasha's_ appointments."

There is a laugh. "Ah, no fun at all. I was only joking, Kagome-sama."

I can feel my eye twitching. "Really? It's… funny."

"I believe so." I can practically feel the smile in his voice. "Okay, I'd like Inuyasha to have a two hour appointment every two days. Not including weekends, of course."

"Really?" My voice sounds like it's been taken over my Minnie Mouse. I force myself to lower the pitch. "You don't think that's too much?" Subtext being, you don't think _Inuyasha_ will think it's too much?

"No, no." His tone is airy, full of confidence - or ignorance? I envy him. "I think it's fine. Or do you have any other patients you need to tend to, Kagome-sama?"

Darn it. He's got me there. "…No, I don't."

"Then that's fine." A pause. "Now, we've gotten everything to do with business out of the way… would you mind being a little sociable?"

"Sociable?"

"Would you mind telling me your beautiful companion's number? Sango, I believe her name is."

Aha. His motives come into the light. "I wouldn't mind, but I think Sango will."

"I could convince her otherwise."

I think he could too… if he really put his mind to it. "Miroku-sama, I believe that a man truly worthy for her would be man enough to ask for her number himself. I hope that's good enough advice. Goodbye."

I lower the dark green receiver, and as if by magic, my answer machine springs to life.

_You have: one new message_: _Kagome! I thought I told you to get down to the bar? Hurry up! You're on in half a hour!_

Eep. Time to go.

>>>>>>>

"Kagome, about damn time!" Ayame bangs a glass onto the counter, miraculously not spilling any of the contents. "You're up, go, now!"

I barely have time to say hello before she pushes me into the far corner of the bar, when the grand piano rests. She's already arranged the lights to be focused there, and a couple of hoots sound as I make my way towards it. I sit in front of the piano, fingers automatically settling down into their place as I seat myself, and when my fingers press down on the black and white keys, the first notes of the sweet melody ring out in the suddenly still air.

There's no music in front of me; I play from memory - a memory that's taught me how to guide my hands across the keys to make a tune, ever since a fifteen year old girl sat down and hesitantly touched the row of black and white, self tutoring herself because of her wanting to not trouble her Mama for a teacher when they were short on money.

I'm conscious of the eyes on me, but I don't bother to feel self-conscious for myself; I watch my fingers run up and down and press the keys - and then I press down harder, harder, and the notes jump out of the piano, fierce and branding. The melody stretches out, becoming slowly smoother and softer, the notes becoming quietly sweet again, until it all completely fades.

There's a fairly loud round of applause, most of it coming from the nightly haunters of the bar, who are used to me time and time again stepping up to the piano.

"Get you a drink?" Ayame smiles lazily at me as I walk towards her, panic over since the empty slot's filled.

I smile. "Malibu. Okay?" I sit down on the barstool in front of her.

She shakes her head, while pouring the coconut flavoured alcohol out into a glass. "It's a girly drink."

"I am a girl!"

"Right you are." Kouga slides into the barstool next to me, and he flashes a appreciative grin at me. "Ayame, give me a beer."

"Not even a please? Shame on you." Still, the red head does as he commands. She's in love with him. The idiot that's flirting with me, right now, I mean.

"Kagome, you're looking beautiful tonight."

I try and busy myself with my drink. "Thanks, Kouga. You don't look so bad yourself."

He leans a little closer to me, not aware of the red headed girl that's currently boring eyes of death into his head. I am though. "You play so well… you could do so professionally, you know."

Ayame bangs the beer mug sharply onto the counter, and he jumps. "Thanks, Ayame. Here." He hands her the correct coins.

"Say, Kouga… you're not involved with anyone, are you?"

"No, I'm not." He gives me a suggestive smile, which I wish was directed at Ayame instead. Judging by the look on her face, she obviously does as well.

"Are you?"

"Well, uh, no…" I raise my eyes towards Ayame, pleading.

"Kagome… why don't you help me with a couple of orders? It'll just take a short while, I promise."

Kouga looks disgruntled. Good. I hurriedly drain my Malibu. "Sure. You've got their drinks ready?"

"Yeah." Ayame shoves me a tray - red wine and a scotch. "The table in the corner, two guys." She gives me a appraising eye. "I think that outfit will do. Anything you mind washing out?"

"No, it's okay."

I brighten up my smile and walk towards the table. Okay, once I'm finished here, I can go… and hopefully without Kouga noticing. I set the tray onto the table -

"Hey, you're that girl who was playing the piano, aren't you?"

- And freeze.

That voice. It's so dangerously familiar.

_Please no, please no…_

I raise my eyes slowly - almost fearfully - to meet curious eyes of gold, only to see them widen with realization.

I close my own eyes. _Oh, God._

_Inuyasha._

_>>>>>>_

W00t! X3 Got it done!

Wait for the next chapter, and review, please!


End file.
